It was an ordinary Sunday afternoon. A windows-down drive through the mountains sent the Spring breeze dancing in the windows, begging loose objects to become its dance partner. Beams of golden magic pierced the landscape before me, causing dappled sunlight to fill the street. Around me, music and voices intermingled. Their words indistinguishable but full of feeling.
Stealing a peek in the visor mirror, I saw the back seat’s occupants, and for a moment, the world froze. A rush of peace flooded my mind, and tomorrow’s gathered-early worries and today’s momentary stresses disappeared. Just for that moment , I knew life couldn’t be more perfect. Its ordinary beauty overwhelmed me.
Words I’d read months ago flooded my mind; one simple sentence tucked deep into a blog post or maybe a favorite book. “The best moments in life don’t often photograph well.” I glanced over at my husband as he drove and sang along to the radio. I knew in an instant that Instagram could never capture what my heart felt. No photograph could portray the power of that ordinary minute. But my heart could.
So I closed my eyes and breathed in the joy and contentment that filled me. I engraved the image of teenage faces on my brain. All too soon, the traces of mecurial adolescence would leave their eyes and be replaced with the self-reliant gleam of young adulthood. I quietly recounted the steadfast love of the one who sat next to me. The four of us would always be close, but never again would we share this singular moment in time: a jewel in the treasure chest of ordinary.
I held that jewel up to the afternoon sun and basked in its perfection. Then as the clouds changed to pink smears, I tucked it away in my heart, knowing it could be admired again and again because I chose to revel in it instead of updating my status.